


Sherlock's Secret

by bibliolatry



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Exhibitionism, First Kiss, M/M, Other, Plushophilia, Strap-Ons, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:09:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1299442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliolatry/pseuds/bibliolatry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He couldn’t lie. He’d wondered many times since he’d moved into 221 Baker Street why Sherlock always kept his bedroom door closed. The answer to that question was far more surprising than anything he could have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock's Secret

He couldn’t lie. He’d wondered many times since he’d moved into 221 Baker Street why Sherlock always kept his bedroom door closed. The answer to that question was far more surprising than anything he could have imagined. Sitting in the center of his bed was a three foot tall, white, stuffed bear. He stood in the doorway, frozen to the spot, with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

“John?” Sherlock’s voice floated to his ears from the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

He turned slowly to look at Sherlock, his mouth working without forming words. He held up his hand, his phone clutched in a tight grip, and offered it to Sherlock. Sherlock took the phone and looked at the screen where a text message was open.

**Danger Night  
MH**

Sherlock let out an annoyed sigh. “It really isn’t any of your concern.”

That snapped John from his stupor. “Not my concern? Sherlock, you’re my friend. If you’re having a danger night, of course I’ll be worried.”

“So you just enter my room, my personal space as you put it, without consulting me?”

“That’s not what I was doing. I knocked. When I didn’t get a response, I didn’t know if you weren’t in or if you had already…” he trailed off, looking to the side as the nauseous feeling he’d had when he thought of Sherlock high and alone, possibly overdosed, behind that door.

Sherlock studied him, his eyes trailing over every detail of John’s oatmeal jumper and blue jean clad form. “I see. I suppose I can understand where your priorities were.”

John looked back up at him, curiosity blazing in his eyes. They both knew he wouldn’t verbalize the subject of that curiosity, but it wouldn’t stop him from deliberating it. Sherlock moved to enter his bedroom, brushing past John as he did. He left the door open and perched himself on the corner of his bed.

“If the curiosity is going to eat away at you and distract you from The Work, I suppose I can clarify a few things.” As he spoke, his hand reached out, fingers trailing over the plush fur of the bear. John noted the slight shiver that ran through his form as he did this. “Come in, sit down.”

John moved into the room slowly, his eyes roaming the area as though he were back in Afghanistan and clearing a building. He was on edge, Sherlock could see that clearly, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. Sherlock pointed to a well-cushioned, wing backed chair in the corner near his closet door and John moved to sit on it. He trained his eyes on Sherlock as the latter cleared his throat.

“As a doctor I’m sure you’re aware that there are many types of diseases in the world that affect both body and mind. This is not something I’m proud of, not is it something I am necessarily ashamed of. The only person that is aware of my disease is Mycroft. You are well aware of how difficult it is to keep something from him.” John nodded and waited for Sherlock to continue. “Pushophilia…”

John sputtered out an interruption, “philia? As in paraphilia?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “If you would be so kind as to not interrupt. This isn’t easy for me, Dr. Watson.”

“Sorry.”

“Now, as I was saying. Plushophilia is a sexual arousal to stuffed animals.”

“You mean…”

“John,” Sherlock scowled at his flat mate. “Do you mind?”

“Sorry.”

“Yes, I get aroused by stuffed animals. It is, in fact, the only thing that interests me in a sexual way.”

John stared at him a moment, waiting to see if he would continue, but Sherlock’s piercing blue gaze continued to silently watch him. John wasn’t sure what to think. He’d heard stranger things, sure. Had a mate in the Army that quietly admitted to him that he was a verophile. The memory sent an involuntary shiver down John’s spine and he looked up just in time to catch the quick flash of hurt that crossed Sherlock’s face.

“Well,” John breathed out, squaring his shoulders. “At least it’s not…” he paused, trying to think of something to say that would ease the tension seeping into Sherlock’s entire being. “If I’m being honest, it’s strange; but then, you’re a strange person. Don’t look like that Sherlock,” Sherlock had lowered his head, twisting his body away from John. “I didn’t say it bothered me. I’ve heard far worse.”

“Like what? What could possibly be worse than fucking a stuffed animal?”

“Having a sexual obsession with being devoured whole.”

Sherlock’s head jerked up and around, his brow furrowed in confusion. His eyes roamed John’s face for a moment before the confusion lessened. “Not you.”

John shook his head. “No, not me. A mate from my Army days. Creepiest thing I’ve ever heard, if I’m being honest. Told me about how his girlfriend would help him build giant animals and he’d crawl into their mouths and spend an hour or more in the ‘stomach’ they’d made for it before screwing her like a dog in heat.” 

Sherlock stared at him with wide eyes, processing this new information. “That’s… quite strange.”

John nodded, a small smile creeping onto his face. “It is. So, you see, I’ve no reason to judge your love for plush when there’s far weirder things out there.”

Sherlock nodded, giving John a small smile as his posture relaxed. “Well, then.” He placed his hands on his knees, fingers tapping at his shins. “Dinner?”

***

John stared at Sherlock over the top of his menu. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering back to Sherlock’s stuffed bear. He couldn’t help but wonder how it was done. Had Sherlock cut a hole into the bear to fuck or did he just rut against it until he came?

John took in a sharp breath as he realized his cock was hardening bit by bit as the images flashed through his mind. _Sherlock laying on his back, the bear positioned over him as he fucked up into it. Sherlock holding the bear against the wall as he rubbed his dick against its furry body until he reached his release. Sherlock fucking into the bear from behind, his thin, firm hands holding it in place._

“John?” Sherlock’s voice broke John out of his musings. He lowered the menu to glance at Sherlock, only just taking note of the waiter that stood beside the table. “Have you decided?”

“Yes, I’ll have the mushroom swiss burger,” he chose a random item, ignoring Sherlock’s curious gaze as he handed the waiter his menu and layered his hands, palm down, on the table in front of him.

“Drink, sir?”

“Oh, yes. Can I get a coffee and a glass of ice water?”

“Certainly, sir,” the waiter gave him a quick smile before he walked off to put in their order.

“Something’s bothering you,” Sherlock stated as he leaned back in the benched seat.

“Not really, no.”

“But something is on your mind.”

“True.”

“What?”

“Can’t you deduce that?”

Sherlock studied him: _stiff back, slightly widened eyes, barely noticeable tremble in his hands_. A million scenarios ran through his mind in the time it took for the waiter to return with their drinks. Once the waiter had left their table once more, Sherlock spoke. “You’re intrigued. You want to know more.”

John gave a subtle nod. “I don’t…” he shrugged, not really knowing what to say. “I think…” they were interrupted once more when the waiter returned with their plates. John stared at the tortellini glazed with a salmon colored sauce. “You’re eating?”

“It’s a celebration, John.”

“Oh?” John was confused. “For what?”

“For you not leaving,” Sherlock looked up at him, a single pasta on his fork held slightly above his plate. “For you learning that about me and staying.”

“Oh.” John stared at him a moment before picking up a chip and biting it in half. He chewed and swallowed, tapping the other end of the chip against his bottom lip as he contemplated asking Sherlock if he’d mind John…

“What are you thinking about?”

John took a deep breath. He stared at Sherlock, his semi-erect cock twitching in interest. “I want to watch.”

Sherlock, who had just taken a sip of his wine, coughed as he rushed to set the glass back down. “You can’t be serious.”

“But I am. I want to know more and what better way than to watch?”

Sherlock stared at him, his face a perfect display of disbelief. “Do you know what you’re asking for?”

“Of course I do,” John shrugged.

“But, you’re not gay.”

“Funny thing, that. No one’s ever thought to ask if I was bisexual.”

Sherlock stared at him with wide eyes. How could he not have foreseen this? It’s always something. 

“Consider it?”

Sherlock nodded and turned back to his food, his mind a jumble of images and thoughts. He took note of the nervous fluttering in his stomach and the slight plumping of his flaccid cock.

***

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Sherlock asked as he opened the door to his bedroom in just his blue robe.

“Pretty sure I wouldn’t be at your bedroom door if I weren’t,” John replied as Sherlock stepped to the side and allowed him to enter. He wore a thin, comfortable t-shirt and a pair of solid gray pajama pants under his checkered robe. Sherlock ushered him to the chair he’d moved to the side of the bed.

As John sat on the chair, Sherlock moved to his closet. John watched with interest as Sherlock pulled a box with a padlock on it out of the closet. He turned to the dresser, hiding what he was doing from John’s view. Out of the box he pulled a strap-on dildo. His face was flushed with embarrassment as he turned back to the bed and attached it to the bear. 

John’s eyes were wide. This was nothing like he’d imagined, but just as enticing. He looked on as Sherlock pulled a tube of lube from the night stand. He looked up at John as the tube landed on the bed and his hands moved to the sash. This was it, the moment that would bare all.

The robe fell to the floor revealing miles of pale skin flushed a beautiful shade of red. Sherlock twitched nervously as he climbed onto the bed and situated himself. He grasped the lube as his knees fell apart. He wasn’t even hard yet, too nervous about John’s reaction. 

Sherlock poured lube into one hand and snapped the tube shut before tossing it to the side. He’d need it again shortly to lube the dildo. He allowed his body heat to warm the lube as his other hand went to his limp cock. He brushed his fingers over it, allowing his eyes to partially close as the sensations took over his mind. His foot twitched, toes digging into the fur of his bear, and his cock filled out. Sherlock trailed his lubed fingers along his scrotum and across his perineum as his other hand circled his erection and his thumb teased his glans. 

A sharp intake of breath had Sherlock’s eyes opening as his head turned to John. The first thing he took note of was the erection tenting his pajamas and a small smile curved the corners of his lips. Sherlock teased his anus, flicking his lubed fingers across the puckered entrance as the fingers of his other hand flittered across his erection in a teasing manner. As his sphincter relaxed, Sherlock pushed one finger in, twirling it slightly to further ease the intrusion. He worked himself open slowly, taking his time as the music of John’s rapid breathing mingled with his and filled the room.

“Are you ready?” he asked as he pulled his fingers from his anus and shifted to his knees. His eyes landed on John who was watching him with wide eyes as his fingers teased his hardened cock through his pajamas.

John nodded and Sherlock grabbed the lube so he could lather some over the dildo. When he was finished, he moved over the bear, positioning himself just right so that he could sink onto the toy with minimal interference. A low moan escaped him as the tip of the toy pierced his outer ring. He moved slow, sinking onto the toy inch by inch. Rustling to the side brought his attention to John who had wiggled his pajamas and pants down to his knees and now sat with his erection on display, his fingers running over the vein throbbing along it.

“John,” Sherlock moaned as he began to rock on the dildo, the fingers of one hand fiddling with his ball sack as it pushed into the white fur and his other wrapped around his aching cock.

“Christ, Sherlock,” John breathed as Sherlock began to lift and drop on the toy. John’s hand wrapped around his cock, his thumb brushing against the top to gather the pre-cum dripping from the slit. He moved his hand in time with Sherlock’s hips, fighting to keep his eyes open as the pleasure built. John’s hips began to lift, forcing his cock through the ring of his hand as Sherlock increased his pace. Both men released long, low moans as their paced steadily increased, rocketing them towards orgasm.

“God, John. Fuck. Yes,” Sherlock’s back arched as he came, semen shooting across the bear and bed.

John followed closely, his eyes snapping shut as a growl forced its way out his throat. “Sherlock.”

They remain in their positions, sated and panting, for a moment before John cleared his throat and shifted to bring his pants and pajamas back up. Sherlock lifted himself from the toy, using his hands to hold the bear down as he moved. He picked his robe up from the floor beside the bed and pulled it on, leaving the sash untied. He leaned his back against the headboard and turned his head towards John, but wouldn’t look directly at him.

“It appears I have a bit of an exhibitionist streak in me as well.”

John cleared his throat again. “I appear to be into voyeurism, so. There’s that.”

“Yes.” 

They sat in silence a moment before Sherlock spoke again. “This a one-off?”

“Christ, no,” John flushed. “I mean, not if you don’t want it to be.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, a smile fighting its way onto his face. “That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had, John. Why would I give something like that up?”

John chuckled as he leaned back in the chair. “So, where does this leave us?”

Sherlock watched him a moment before rising from the bed and making his way around it to where John sat. “John,” his voice was low, almost a whisper, but John looked up at him nonetheless. “I’d like to kiss you.”

John’s breath caught in his throat and a light blush once more covered his face. “Yeah,” he cleared his throat again. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

Sherlock leaned down towards him as he tilted his head further back. They paused, a hairs breadth away from touching. Sherlock pushed the rest of the way, allowing his lips to lightly brush over Johns. A barely audible whimper ripped its way from Sherlock’s throat and John’s hands moved fast, fingers tangling in the curls at Sherlock’s nape as he pulled him down into a hungry kiss.


End file.
